With Tongue in Cheek
by SuperSlouch
Summary: A psychopath arrives in Ikebukuro and gets in the way of Izaya's plans. She's a tad too much like him, and he's irritated. And pissed. So why can't he bring himself to play her like he did the others? He's a nice guy, that's why. Or maybe it's because she's not a piece on his chess board, but his opponent. No, it's because he's going easy on her. He likes that one better. IzayaxOC
1. Unplanned

**_Hi everyone! This is my first fanfic. I watched the first episode of DRRR, got hooked, and then found myself writing this without even realizing it. OCs are tricky, tricky creatures to write about, especially since it's really easy to make them seem either really pretentious or too insignificant or both. I know it's always a risk to write a story with an OC, but I really can't resist. I have to._**

**_This chapter is kind of an introduction, so there's no real drama or action happening yet. I hope you enjoy reading it, though!_**

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the DRRR characters, much to my displeasure, nor do I own the original plot of DRRR. My OC is mine. No stealing her. Heh._**

* * *

Izaya Orihara was perfectly content with his unscrupulous lifestyle. He loved the thrill of it; adopting various personas to disguise his true intentions from others, calculating the myriad ways to manipulate his acquaintances, setting up people like pieces on a chessboard and watching his games play out before his eyes – all of it was simply exhilarating. When asked to explain his actions, he gave only one response, always without hesitation: he did what he did because he loved humans.

Of course, his love went unreciprocated. His precious humans would never appreciate his "loving" actions, nor could they. While he wanted to be loved in return, he didn't let it bother him; in fact, it made his love for them stronger. How elusive the human mind! Humans were so trusting, so malleable, so willingly deceived. He loved to gain their trust only to abandon them when they most needed him, he loved to manipulate their emotions, and he loved to watch them destroy themselves. How fitting. Izaya couldn't imagine a more perfect relationship.

"Izaya, don't you think there are more productive things to do than staring at that chessboard?"

He looked up gleefully, his features distorted into a twisted smile. "Oh, Namie-chan! Don't you just love it?" He stood, placing his hands on the coffee table and leaning towards her. "Don't you just love humans?"

Yagiri Namie was, once again, confounded by Izaya's sudden outbursts and "love" for humans. With a disinterested sigh, she placed a stack of papers on the table and bluntly declared, "Not particularly." Elaborating any further would be a waste of her time.

"Oh, Namie-chan, you're really too cruel!" Izaya retorted, undeterred by Namie's indifference. "Humans are such fascinating creatures. You can pretty much predict everything they're going to do, with the exception of Shizu-chan and Simon, of course. And when they're so easy to predict, they're easy to manipulate, too!" He laughed, twirling about on his heels in giddy excitement before falling back onto the couch and sprawling his slender limbs across it. "They'll come to love me at some point. I'm sure of it," he muttered, half-jokingly. He was happy enough with his unrequited love.

Namie sighed again, this time out of agitation. "They hate you."

Izaya leaned his head back over the armrest and laughed. Namie simply could not bring herself to understand how he could laugh as if something was funny and shook her head.

Having recovered from his paroxysm, Izaya lifted his head and gazed at her. "It doesn't matter whether or not they love me back. I love them anyways." Suddenly finding his position to be uncomfortable, he sat up and crossed his legs, draping his arms over the back of the couch. "Surely you love them, too," he purred, his eyes glinting. "You're almost as twisted as I am."

He was, in a sense, the closest thing she had to a friend. As much as his sadistic love for humans disgusted her, she knew her own love was similar to his at the most basic level: it was a love that would never be reciprocated. She'd had enough experience dealing with Izaya Orihara to know better than to make any attempt at tricking him or outsmarting him. Honesty was always the best way to go. "I love only my brother. It isn't the same kind of sick love you have for your humans."

"Mm," Izaya responded, closing his eyes and resting his chin on the back of his hand. It was a brief moment of quietude; in the next instant, he planted his feet on the floor and leaned forward in his seat, waving his hand as if to dismiss the topic. "Anyways, Namie-chan, you've been looking out of it since you came in. What's troubling you?"

She cast her eyes upon the stack of papers. "That."

Seeming to have finally taken notice of the official-looking documents, Izaya reached over to pick them up. "My, this is some hefty paperwork you have here," he commented, leafing through the pages and skimming their contents. "Authorization forms? Abstracts? Procedures? Are you trying to get your old job back?"

Namie smiled bitterly at the thought. "If only it was that easy, Izaya," she sighed, gently lifting the papers from his hands and straightening them on the table. "Even if I was applying for a job under the new management, it'd take me years to get my old position back. All that hard work gone to waste," she grumbled under her breath.

Izaya raised his eyebrows inquisitively. "It sure looks like you've got some projects in mind."

"Not really. My career is over."

"Aren't those project proposals?" Izaya asked. "You're planning on submitting them to the company chair, right?"

"Oh. Not quite," she muttered, flipping through the stack. "They're proposals, but they aren't mine." Her fingers stopped at a particularly wordy page, which she pulled out and placed at the top of the pile. "I never actually left the board of experimental scientists, so I still get stuck with reviewing proposals before submission. They come from all over."

"Ah, I see," Izaya nodded in comprehension. "So whose are those? Let me guess: some novice in the pharmaceutical industry hoping to follow in your footsteps by experimenting on human bodyparts? Oh, but maybe instead of a severed head, they'd have a severed pe - "

"Izaya, that's disgusting!" Namie snapped. "No, these are actually from the psychological division." She clarified, pointing out the words "Department of Psychology and Neuroscience" printed in bold at the top of one page. "Looks like there's a new independent psychoanalyst hoping to conduct some studies on emotional triggers."

"Oh?" Izaya smirked, nimbly swiping the first page of the stack from Namie's hands. He looked it over, his eyes rapidly moving across the document. "Psychoanalysis, huh? And what business is it of yours?"

She sighed again. How many was that? Three? Four? Izaya wore her out, she realized. "It's not. They just want me to read it and submit my opinion as to whether or not it meets ethical standards."

"Booooring," Izaya yawned, stretching his arms above his head before hopping to his feet and making his way to his computer. "But you're quite the twisted one yourself, so your own experiments couldn't possibly have passed, right?"

"Right," she mumbled, moving towards his desk and snatching the page from his hands once more. "You'd think they would have learned by now that nothing can stop a mad scientist from doing what he or she wants. We'll always find ways around their restrictions."

After waiting a few moments, Namie realized she wouldn't receive a response. Izaya had already lost interest in the conversation and was gleefully chatting away with his online "friends", completely disregarding her presence. While this exasperated her, she was glad to have held a semi-serious conversation with him at all; they were so rare. She sank into the couch and pulled out a pen from her coat pocket, preparing to review the seventy-four pages of pretentious scientific crap that lay before her.

**... ...**

**... ...**

_God Dammit!_ Celty Sturluson thought to herself. The sky was rapidly darkening as she sped down the road. Her thoughts were turning almost as quickly as the wheels on her motorcycle. It seemed that pesky traffic cop was on her tail again, and she just couldn't shake him. Persistent bastard. _Why won't he leave me alone?!_

Kinnosuke Kuzuhara would not leave her alone. He had a mission: track down and arrest any traffic dissenters, no matter what the cost. He leaned forward, grinning devilishly as he chased her. She caught sight of his maniacal expression in her rearview mirror and nearly had a heart attack. _He's so scary!_ She thought. This guy was some serious trouble. She knew she had to find some shortcut, some street she knew and he didn't...

She rounded a corner and spotted a narrow pathway between two buildings. She could probably squeeze through it if she kept a straight path, so she decided to take the risk. She hurriedly made the sharp turn into the alleyway and sped towards the other end. She watched in her rearview mirror as officer Kuzuhara zipped right past the alley, completely unaware of its existence, and immediately felt herself calm down. If she had a face, she would have been smiling.

She didn't take immediate notice when a door to the building on her left opened in front of her and a young woman stepped out. When she did notice the woman, she squeezed the brakes with great vigor, but she knew that there wasn't enough time to come to a complete stop. Had the alleyway been a little wider, she would have been able to steer around the woman. Unfortunately, it wasn't,and Celty found herself barreling towards the poor woman. She could do nothing morethan prepare herself for impact and hope the woman did, too.

_SLAM!  
_

_**... ...**_

_**... ...**_

_Chiharu has entered the chatroom_

_**Maki: **_hello, chiharu-chan

_**Chiharu:**_ _hi..._

_**Nakura: **_**Chiharu-chan~ Is that nasty boyfriend of yours still cheating on you?**

_**Maki: **_Nakura-san...you're too bold...

_Tomo has entered the chatroom_

_**Nakura: **_**But it's true, right? ^.^**

_**Nakura:**_** Welcome, Tomo-chan! It's so fun to have newcomers here~**

_**Chiharu:**_ _nakura-san is right, i just caught my scum boyfriend screwing his secretary again_

_**Maki: **_how are you, Tomo-san?

_**Maki:**_oh, i'm sorry to hear that, chiharu-san...well at least you know now

_**Maki:**_ my husband just disappeared so i have no idea what he's out there doing.

_**Tomo: **__**hi everyone**_

_**Tomo: **__**i'm depressed**_

_**Nakura: **_**Welcome to the club.**

_**Chiharu: **__sorry to hear that, Maki-san. that's rough. what a scumbag_

_**Chiharu: **__what about you, nakura-san? have they caught the murderer?_

_**Nakura: **_**nope, they haven't caught the bastards yet...I can't believe they got away with killing my angel...**

**_Tomo: i just got hit by a bike_**

**_Tomo: and my boyfriend killed himself last week because he thought i was too demanding_**

_**Chiharu: **__…_

_**Maki: **_people are stupid

_**Tomo: **__**i wish i could just die**_

_**Chiharu: **__me too_

_**Maki: **_yeah.

_**Nakura:**_ **The world is just a nasty, nasty place...**

_**Nakura: **_**Oh, I know~ How about we met up IRL?**

_**Tomo: **__**okay. i have nothing else to lose...**_

_**Chiharu: **__IRL? why..?_

_**Nakura: **_**Since we're all unhappy with our current situations**

_**Nakura: **_**perhaps ****we can meet up and end our suffering together**

**... ...**

**... ...**

"Christ, Shizuo!" Tom Tanaka shouted at the reckless blond before him. "Don't kill the poor bastard!" He hollered. Yet there he was, lingering on the sidewalk with little more than a mildly concerned expression as he observed yet another one of Shizuo Heiwajima's temper tantrums. He was acutely aware of the growing crowd of spectators, and, to be entirely honest, he was a little embarrassed. How many times had Shizuo made a scene in the last week? Too many times to count. Still, he knew better than to interfere.

Shizuo was lifting a man by the shirt collar, shaking him and hollering into his face. "What the _hell_ is 'I don't know' supposed to mean?! Tell him where the goddamn money is!"

"I-I swear to God, Heiwajima-san, I really don't know what you're talking about!" The man replied feebly. His face was drained of color as he stared, blankly, into Shizuo's face.

This answer, it seemed, was not good enough. In the next instant, the man was sent hurtling through the air at a dizzying speed. He hit the building across the street headfirst and fell to the pavement with a dull thud.

Tom smacked his own forehead with the palm of his hand. "Shizuo...You really need to keep your damn anger in check..."

Shizuo straightened and nonchalantly reached into his back pocket. "Sorry boss," he huffed, lighting a cigarette. "He was pissing me off."

"That doesn't mean..." Tom trailed off. His eyes moved to the fallen man, now lying limp on the sidewalk. He shoved a few people aside as he moved across the street, then knelt down and took the victim's pulse. He breathed a sigh of relief upon feeling the quick but steady heartbeat, but shook his head nevertheless. "Jesus, look what you've done this time. You really could have killed him. This goes without saying, but we need him alive in order to collect his money."

Shizuo felt a pang of guilt when he noticed the trickle of blood running down the man's forehead. "Look boss, I'm sorry, but -"

"Shizuo, here," Tom said, cutting Shizuo off. He held out a small piece of white construction paper. "I've been meaning to give this to you for a while, but I've been irresponsible about it." His voice was calm. Shizuo knew calm was bad. Calm meant serious shit. He guessed he'd been expecting this day to come for quite some time now; he couldn't really have hoped anyone would put up with his temper forever, could he?

Shizuo reached out and meekly tugged the card from Tom's hand. It was blank. He turned it over. "Dr. Akio Akutagawa...?"

Tom had one of his men carry the unconscious man away. He slowly stood and turned to face Shizuo. "Dr. Akutagawa is an extremely capable and well-known therapist. You might benefit from paying him a visit."

* * *

**_Did you make it to the end?! Didja?! I hope you didn't get too bored..._**

**_In case you didn't notice, my OC doesn't actually appear in this chapter. I'm trying out this new kind of storytelling style in which the OC isn't an attention whore and is a little more low-key. But don't get frustrated, she'll show up soon!_**

**_Liked it? Review! Didn't like it? Review! There's always room for improvement!_**

**_Thanks a ton!_**

**_SUPERSLOUCH_**


	2. Unprepared

_**Author's Note: **_**Hey everyone! Thanks for reading the last chapter (if you haven't read the last chapter yet, please read and review! I'd appreciate it!). I'm sorry it took so long to update; I was trying to figure out the best way to proceed with writing the story. It's still not perfect, but I hope you guys enjoy it anyway.**

**_DISCLAIMER: "Durarara" (manga and anime) belongs to its creators and distributors, so all rights to the original plot, characters, and settings go to said higher-ups. I'm literally just a fangirl who doesn't actually have a lot of spare time but likes to pretend she does in order to write these things. I own nothing but my OC (and any future OCs I might come up with) and my silly little fangirly plot here. _**

**Please drop a review if you have the time! Thanks, and I hope you enjoy!**

* * *

Namie Yagiri packed up her work quietly and shut off the desk lamp, only then noticing the golden afternoon light that filtered through the blinds and washed over the walls. _It's that late already, huh..._she thought to herself, and momentarily wondered where Izaya could have gone. After becoming Izaya's secretary, she had quickly discovered that she could come and go almost as she pleased; Izaya was always out somewhere in the city, either collecting information from his sources or finding ways to use that information for his own personal enjoyment (and almost always at the expense of others). On this particular day, Izaya had left before noon and still hadn't returned by the time she finished the research he'd asked her to do, and by the looks of it, he wouldn't be back anytime soon. She figured she was free to go.

_ Come to think of it, Izaya did mention something about another one of those suicide pacts,_ she recalled as she locked the office door. She thought back on the many people Izaya had fooled into thinking he was their ally, and she couldn't help but the faces of those high school girls terrified of the prospect of facing their futures alone, those middle-aged men broken by the monotony of everyday life, those young women crushed by the discovery of their husbands' infidelity... She shook her head in disgust. _What a sick obsession._

_*.*.*.*.*_

"_So I'm guessing it didn't go well?" _Celty held her phone up to Shizuo's face. He smiled resentfully at the question and lit a cigarette. "Nope. He was a nice old man and everything, but something about the way he talked to me pissed me off," he replied, exhaling smoke. After a moment of hesitation, he added, "He spoke really slowly and had this stupid smile on his face the entire time. Like he was talking to an angry kid or something."

_Because you sort of are like an angry kid... _Celty thought, and found herself giggling. It was times like these that she was glad she didn't have a voice. Shizuo wasn't one to tolerate being laughed at. _"I see..."_ she typed into her phone. _"So you're not going back?"_

He paused. "I'm afraid he'll piss me off again and I might beat him up," he responded slowly, as if contemplating each word before it passed through his lips. He grunted in frustration, furrowing his brows and pushing his sunglasses up. "But...Tom-san thinks I need professional help. He says my anger gets out of control."

Celty pondered the situation for a moment. _Well, I guess Tom-san could be liable for any damage Shizuo causes_, she decided. She shuddered at the memory of running into that woman with her bike, recalling the panic that had consumed her when she first realized the severity of her situation. She couldn't bring herself to flee from the scene because she knew she would have been unable to cope with her guilt had she left the young woman on the floor of the alleyway. The only other option was to stay and take responsibility for her actions. How terrible it might have been had the woman been seriously injured! _Is this what Tom-san has to think about whenever Shizuo beats someone up?_

The recollection of that frightful evening brought her back to the situation at hand. _"Oh, wait! I have something..." _She typed frantically, suddenly remembering the piece of paper in her pocket. She hastily withdrew a card from her breast pocket and held it out to Shizuo excitedly.

"What is this?" He grumbled, plucking the paper from her hand. _Great, another business card..._ He looked it over in silence. "Dr. Miyako Kumasaki, Ph.D." was printed in a pretty blue font at the center of the card, and just beneath it was the doctor's contact information.

Celty watched nervously as Shizuo glared at the business card and found herself growing increasingly perturbed as time passed in suffocating silence. _Oh no...I didn't offend him, did I?! _She desperately tapped words into her phone as the possibility dawned on her. _"Wait, Shizuo-san...I just wanted to help. You don't need to go if you don't want to."_

He snapped out of his trance-like concentration and sighed heavily, seeming to have fought an urge to have another outburst. "It's...I guess it can't hurt to try," he reasoned, though failed to disguise the skepticism in his voice. "Where did you get this?"

Celty recognized him to be more pensive than angry and relaxed a little. Relieved that Shizuo was at least considering her suggestion, Celty was eager to respond. Still, the backstory was embarrassing, and she hesitantly held the screen up for Shizuo to see. _"A few months ago, I hit a girl with my bike," _it read.

"You _what?!_" Shizuo blinked at her incredulously. After a moment's consideration, he chuckled to himself. "You look so intimidating and aloof, I bet the look on her face when she saw you was priceless_._" He snorted.

"_I...I didn't really see. But anyone would make a surprised face if they saw someone charging at them on a motorcycle," _she mused. _"Anyway, I was running from Kuzuhara and I didn't see her in time, and then I hit her." _

"That relentless asshole should just give up on you already," Shizuo grumbled, dour expression back in place as if the corners of his mouth hadn't so recently been upturned into a smile. He cleared his throat. "But, uh...so she didn't get too badly hurt, then?"

Celty nodded. _"She fell over and couldn't stand for a while, so I helped her up and apologized. She was really nice about it and invited me to discuss the situation with her over coffee," _she typed. After a brief pause, she added, "_I didn't drink anything, of course."_

"Right...so you talked it over and then she gave you her business card," Shizuo figured, turning the card over in his hands and folding the corners out of nervous habit. Celty watched in silence as he continued to make creases in the card. She could only hope he was seriously contemplating the situation.

Suddenly, he straightened his back and tucked the wrinkled card into his pocket. "I'll think about it," he declared, voice steady and eyes unwavering. Without warning, he casually redirected the conversation elsewhere. "So how's the head-hunting?" he inquired. Celty knew the discussion about his anger management issues was over.

*.*.*.*.*

_How troublesome_, Izaya thought to himself as the three ladies before him lamented their miseries and compared methods of suicide. He tried to shift his gaze from woman to woman as he followed the conversation, but he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from Tomo.

It wasn't as though she was particularly attractive - certainly not compared to Chiharu, the pout-lipped, doe-eyed high school girl on her right, or Maki, the tall, sultry businesswoman on her left - nor had she anything particularly profound or even remotely interesting to contribute to the conversation. She was annoyingly sheepish in even her smallest gestures and seemed to have remarkable difficulty looking at any one person in the eye for any period of time; her attention, therefore, was always on her own feet. Put bluntly, Izaya thought her to be a wholly unprepossessing woman. Even so, she was the only woman of the three who hadn't so much as touched the tea Izaya had so painstakingly served her. He was growing increasingly perplexed and annoyed as to why.

"Tomo-san, won't you have some tea?" he coaxed gently. "I know it's not much, but I really would like you to feel comfortable..."

She merely shook her head, gaze glued to the floor. "I'm fine for the time being. Thanks," she insisted meekly. "I'm just not thirsty, so please don't be offended."

With that, Izaya was left still troubled by her refusal to drink the tea. _Not even a drop,_ he noted. _What a strange woman, refusing a man's kindness like that. _He smirked at the thought.

"Nakura-san?" Maki called, bringing him back to attention. "About the possible methods, Chiharu favors gunshot, but...I would prefer jumping off a bridge or a building. Wouldn't that be faster? Do you have any other ideas?"

"Poison," Izaya said definitively, but was startled to hear Tomo's quiet voice alongside his. He shot her a sidelong glance. "Poison is painless," he reasoned, flashing a tender smile at Maki. Still, he couldn't get over Tomo's uncooperative behavior. _ I wonder what she's up to...?_ he thought.

Suddenly, Chiharu slumped down in her seat. "I'm feeling...numb..." she whimpered, surprise evident in her panicked expression. It looked as though the drugs were affecting her first.

Izaya didn't notice that Tomo's head had snapped up in realization, nor did he notice the uncharacteristically intense expression that had replaced her normally lackluster one. It was as if the sight of Chiharu's paralysis had finally brought Tomo to life.

"Oh, my. Are you alright?" Izaya asked, feigning concern. He temporarily forgot about Tomo and leaned over Chiharu to watch as her eyes clouded over. "Perhaps you're just tired. But as for the topic of methods: poison seems to be our safest bet. It won't hurt."

"Wait a minute, is she okay?" Maki asked. She attempted to stand up and check on Chiharu, but found her legs unable to support her weight and crumpled to the floor.

"I agree with Nakura-san," Tomo announced calmly, completely disregarding the sorry states of the two women beside her and glaring directly at Izaya. He was slightly taken aback by this new side of Tomo. When did her face become so impassioned? When did her voice become so resolute? "Poison is so clean and doesn't leave a mess like gunshots do," Tomo added.

Izaya darted another glance at her, this time not bothering to conceal the irritation in his eyes. _Is she trying to compete with me?_ he thought. _Perhaps she's not quite so dull as I'd thought..._He slowly turned to face her, completely turning his back on Maki and Chiharu. His unsettling smile became a sneer. "You're absolutely right, Tomo-chan. Poison is also difficult to detect in the bloodstream."

"I..I can't move my legs!" Maki gasped, calling attention back to herself while struggling to keep herself upright. She couldn't believe what was happening. Were these two nutcases seriously ignoring her? She noticed Chiharu was blinking in and out of consciousness, eyes unfocused and mouth slightly agape. Maki felt herself becoming dizzy. "Nakura-san, Tomo-san..._help!_"

Tomo did not so much as look in Maki's direction, and instead focused her steady gaze on Izaya, who was now seated across from her. "The best thing about poison?" She never once looked away from Izaya's eyes as she spoke. "It's so painless that you won't even know you're going to die until it's too late."

"The tea!" Maki gasped feebly. Her heart quickened in her chest as the sickening truth struck her. She opened her mouth to scream, to call for help, to beg for her life...But her voice was too weak to carry her words, and before she could stop it, her consciousness had slipped away.

Izaya stood abruptly and approached Tomo like a cat ready to pounce, still paying the now-unconscious girls no heed. He stopped when he was towering over her and leaned forward to peer into her placid face, a seductive grin adorning his own. His icy gaze scanned her eyes for a crack, a weakness, a chink in the armor. When he found none, he cupped her chin in his hand and tilted it upwards forcibly, hoping to intimidate her if nothing else. "Just who are you, Tomo-chan?" he purred, his melodious voice ominously inappropriate for the given situation.

"Perhaps I should ask the same of you," she retorted. She casually tore her face from his grasp but otherwise made no effort to recoil or to retreat; she simply sneered at him as he stared her down. "What game are you playing? Don't pretend you didn't drug their beverages."

He snorted dismissively at her accusation, but he couldn't keep the amusement from creeping into his eyes. "The way you were talking, I'd have thought you were the one who drugged them, my dear Tomo-chan," he teased, breaking into a grin.

"Of course not!" Tomo proclaimed, simpering back. She leaned forward in her seat and narrowed the distance between their faces once more, refusing to turn away from his relentless glare. _Clearly_, Izaya thought, _she has no idea who I am._ "I'm not quite as despicable as you are, Nakura-san. Rendering them unconscious would defeat the purpose of my being here in the first place," she crooned, her honeyed voice dripping in his ears.

"Oh?" Izaya asked tauntingly, unfazed by her impudence. After all, he couldn't exactly say he was innocent of sassiness himself.

Without warning, Tomo's expression shifted into one of cold disaffection, her penetrating eyes devoid of humor. "What an annoying little prick you are, impinging on those girls' rights to decide their own futures like that." With an exasperated sigh, she continued, "I would have been perfectly content watching them follow through with their pathetic plans to kill themselves. Little did I know one of my lab rats would try to drug the others and get in the way."

"My, you _are_ fascinating!" he laughed gleefully, taking a step backwards and straightening his back. "For all of my undying and indiscriminate love for mankind, I was really beginning to think you were hopeless!" he jeered, then cleared his throat and crouched down before her, tired of having to look down whenever he addressed her. "But you see, Tomo-chan, I think you were getting in the way of my plans just as much as I was getting in the way of yours," he scolded playfully, wagging his finger in her face.

She rose from her seat, forcing him to stumble back a few steps. "Then I should hope we don't cross paths again, Nakura-san. I have no interest in playing games," she said, but her coquettish smile suggested otherwise. Nevertheless, she'd slipped past him and made her way to the door before he could stop her. "But if we do happen to meet again," she called from the doorway, "I hope that you'll have enough sense to stay out of my way," she warned, nodding at the unconscious women. She saluted him mockingly then silently closed the door behind her, leaving Izaya to listen to the fading drum of her purposeful steps as they receded into the distance.

"No promises made there, my dear Tomo-chan," Izaya giggled. He dropped his gaze to the sleeping women on the floor and chuckled once more. _How fascinating humans are._

* * *

**Sorry if it's a little hard to follow or too out there. I'm trying to come up with subtle ways to fit my plot and character to match the original characters. It's tough. Again, any critiques or commentary are highly appreciated! Thanks for reading.**


	3. Unannounced

_**Author's Note: Hey everyone! Sorry it's been so long. I just finished midterms...So hopefully I'll be a little more consistent from here on out. Please enjoy this chapter!**_

**Disclaimer: I don't own Durarara or any of its characters (I love them all, but they're not mine). I own Miyako Kumasaki and my own little plot thingy here.**

**_In the last chapter: Celty recommends a new therapist to Shizuo! He sure as hell isn't too happy about that...but he claims he'll give it a shot. Meanwhile, Izaya attends another one of his suicide-group meetings, only to discover that one of his little humans isn't cooperating with him so well. What's up her sleeve?_**

**_Please enjoy! Review if you have the chance! _**

* * *

The young man regarded the office building before him with some level of distaste. _Well_, he thought, _looks like I can't turn back now._ Nestled in the heart of Ikebukuro, the structure was tall and modern, composed of mostly glass and silvery metal plates that formed clean, sharp edges. The man liked modern architecture - it wasn't something he told people about - and this building was no exception. Nevertheless, he could not bring himself to feel at ease as he stepped into the lobby; perhaps this had less to do with the design of the building than with what awaited him inside.

He boarded the elevator, just as the receptionist had instructed, and stared blankly at the sliding doors as he ascended to the fifth floor of the building. Room 515 was around the corner and to the right, as he'd been told. So now, here he was, standing in front of a door behind which would be some scary old shrink who'd undoubtedly try to anatomize the inner workings of his unstable mind. What on earth was he thinking, coming here?

Before he had the chance to change his mind about knocking, a voice came from within the room. "Please come in," it rang, and the man was left without a choice but to comply.

No shriveled crone was there to appraise him when he entered the room; instead, he found himself face-to-face with a young woman. She immediately smiled upon seeing him and promptly removed her reading glasses, which she then folded and set daintily atop a stack of documents on her desk before standing to greet him properly. "Hello, is there anything I can help you with?" she asked, her mellow voice easing his nerves.

"I...yes," he stuttered, momentarily unable to register how completely wrong his preconception of her had been. She was not at all the hag-like sage he'd expected to encounter, but perhaps it was something about her too-soothing voice - something about those striking eyes - that prompted him to put his guard up. "You're, uh, Dr. Kumasaki...?" He quickly cleared his throat, trying desperately to conceal the suspicion in his voice.

"I get that reaction a lot. Maybe it's because I'm not old," she chuckled. "Most people expect psychologists to be stodgy, pretentious old geezers. But to answer your question, I am Dr. Kumasaki." She extended her hand out to him.

He glanced at her hand warily before shaking it. "Shizuo Heiwajima," he said gruffly.

Her eyes lit up instantaneously. "My, my," she said, "I've heard quite a lot about you around town. To what do I owe the honor of meeting you?"

"A friend of mine referred me to you," he said decisively, albeit a bit reluctantly. He directed his attention to the carpeted floor beneath his feet and inhaled deeply. "I'm here for counseling."

"I see. Please, have a seat," she urged. Shizuo cautiously sat down and settled into the cushioned chair opposite hers, setting one arm on each armrest. "So what are you hoping to get out of meeting me, Mr. Heiwajima?" she asked, reaching for her glasses and putting them back on. She wanted to chuckle at the sight of him: here was this rangy man with bleached blonde hair, a bartender suit, and shades, awkwardly sprawled in her office chair. It was almost comical.

Shizuo shifted in his seat uncomfortably. His eyes fell upon the bowl of caramels on her desk, presumably there for clients to take. But the doctor hadn't offered him one, so he didn't ask. He sighed. "My boss is mad at me. He wants me to learn to control my temper."

"And what part of it do you think he most wants you to control?" she asked, her fingers nimbly rifling through the stack of books and papers on her desk for a notepad.

"I dunno," he grumbled, mulling it over. After a moment of silence, he shrugged. "I throw things."

"So I've heard," Dr. Kumasaki said, jotting notes down in her notepad. "What kinds of things?"

Shizuo scowled at the doctor. What did it matter to her what kind of things he threw when he got mad? He just threw whatever was in his reach. "I dunno. Electrical appliances. Cars. People."

She snickered in amusement at his terse response. "Basically anything you can get your hands on," she concluded. "But before we can really figure out how to 'control' that, we need to know why it is you get angry so easily." She crossed her legs and leaned back in the office chair, tapping her cheek with her pen as she thought. "What normally prompts you to throw things in the first place?"

"Izaya," Shizuo muttered, the word having formed in his mouth before he could stop it. Thankfully, he stopped himself from elaborating any further and cleared his throat. "Uh...bullies. Unnecessary trouble. Sometimes people say stupid things that piss me off."

Dr. Kumasaki raised her eyebrows at the mention of Izaya, but chose not to press Shizuo on the matter. _I'll find out eventually,_ she decided, _whether he wants me to or not._ For the time being, she had to do something about that laconic nature of his. "It sounds like you're a very violent person, Heiwajima-san," she remarked contemptuously.

The comment caught him off guard. "You're wrong," he asserted, clearly irritated. His eyebrows twitched in indignation. "I hate violence."

She only just managed to suppress her urge to smile at how decipherable he was; he was just like an open book. She couldn't resist jabbing at him a little further. "That's ludicrous! If you really hated violence, as you so claim, you wouldn't act so violently," she jibed. "Think about all the innocent people you've hurt just because you couldn't control your silly little temper."

That was all it took to set him off. "What was that?" He snarled, slowly rising to his feet. He'd been hoping to get through the day without causing a scene, but before he knew it, his limbs were tingling, his thoughts crackling in his ears as anger pumped through his veins. Oh well.

"It's wrong to hurt people just because you're mad. That's so immature of you," she chided tauntingly, her face breaking out into a grin as she observed his sudden transformation. "I can see why your boss would be upset with you. Violence is so asinine."

_"SHUT UP!"_ he roared, easily overturning the desk before advancing on her, paper crinkling beneath his feet.

Dr. Kumasaki was frowning now. This wasn't fun; she'd _just_ finished furnishing her office and organizing her documents the day before. Luckily, she had anticipated Shizuo's outburst in time to save her laptop from destruction. She had no such luck with her glasses, which lay on the floor by her feet. "Perfect. They're smashed," she sighed exasperatedly, crouching down to inspect the broken spectacles.

When she looked up, Shizuo was towering over her. "Just who the hell do you think you are?!" he shouted, kicking the glasses from her hands. She watched with some level of amusement as they skidded across the floor. In the next instant, she was pushed up against the bookshelf, Shizuo's firm hands closed around her throat. "Don't piss me off," he growled threateningly.

_Dammit_, she thought, _I should have seen that coming._ She knew she was at a disadvantage now that he had her pinned, but she found herself smirking nonetheless. "Oh, Heiwajima-san," she sighed, her voice tinged with mock disappointment. "See what I mean? You can't lose your temper like this." She lifted her eyes to meet his.

Just like that, his mind was in turmoil. Had she been purposely baiting him into losing his temper? Her distinctive slate-gray eyes, bold and inscrutable as the thoughts behind them, bore into him, burning themselves into his memory. Why couldn't he tear his eyes away? If he wanted to, he could have snapped her neck right then and there - what was holding him back? Her steady regard seemed to weaken his resolve entirely, and he found himself unable to move.

Dr. Kumasaki felt his grip loosen and took the opportunity to seize his wrist. "Heiwajima-san," she crooned, still staring intently into his eyes, "it looks like you're very sensitive to any false assumptions about your personality."

Shizuo let go of her immediately and freed himself from her grasp, clearly disconcerted. He looked her over. She merely peered back at him, a shadow of a smile gracing her lips._ Was she seriously just trying to get me to blow up?_ he wondered incredulously. "So that was just some kind of a joke, then?" he muttered.

She laughed. "Not quite. It was more like a test of sorts," she explained, retrieving her glasses from the floor and putting them on. Only for a moment did she scowl at the fragmented view through the cracked lenses before recovering her coy expression. "You were being awfully secretive and unresponsive. I had to do something."

Shizuo snorted in what he hoped sounded like distaste. He could have walked out, given up on this whole "counseling" thing. He could have told Celty that the shrink she'd recommended was a nutcase, told Tom-san that he'd rather die than see this Kumasaki witch again. Instead, he pushed up his sunglasses and grumbled, "Then you'd better pay me back for this by doing a helluva job at counseling me."

A mischievous smile played on her lips. "Of course, Heiwajima-san. I'm sorry to have tricked you like that." She silently surveyed the room. "Looks like I'll be staying late to clean this up," she giggled.

Shizuo examined the room himself. Papers lay in crumpled heaps, books were strewn about, pencils and pens were scattered amongst fragments of what once was a glass vase. The caramels littered the floor by his feet. He gave a heavy sigh. "I'll help," he mumbled, stooping to collect some of the pens by his feet.

As they worked to tidy up the room, Doctor Kumasaki swiftly bent over to pick up one of the caramels and offered it to Shizuo. "You've been eyeing it this whole time," she teased.

He swiped it from her hand and stuffed it in his pocket. "Whatever."

"Just eat it. I know you want to."

"...Fine." He popped the candy into his mouth, and his expression softened a little. Maybe he could keep visiting this Dr. Kumasaki. Maybe she wasn't all that terrible after all.

Dr. Kumasaki smiled to herself as she crouched down and carefully collected shards of glass. "So," she chirped, "tell me about this 'Izaya' you mentioned."

Shizuo froze momentarily. "I...He's an old classmate," he stammered. Whatever happened between him and Izaya was personal - not something he wanted other people sticking their noses in. It certainly wasn't something he really wanted to discuss with some lady he just met.

And yet something about the way she was hunched over, meticulously plucking up pieces of glass and dropping them in the palm of her hand, made him want to trust her. She had already discovered his emotional trigger and put in the effort to figure him out. He felt a little more comfortable knowing there was someone who seemed to understand him, and Dr. Kumasaki didn't seem the type to use any of his secrets against him. Perhaps she _had_ played a dirty trick on him to get him to open up, but surely he hadn't been a very cooperative a patient, either. Besides, she seemed to take her job very seriously.

If he told her what he told no one else, would he feel better? Would his emotions - his _humanness_ - be confirmed?

Sensing Shizuo's hesitation, Dr. Kumasaki straightened her back and turned to face him. "Maybe we didn't get off on the right foot, but I want you to know that I will keep anything you tell me entirely confidential," she promised, smiling encouragingly. "So please, tell me more."

And so he did.

*.*.*.*.*

"You're back late," Namie remarked matter-of-factly as Izaya Orihara strode into the room and flopped down on the couch. "What were you doing? Looking for more lives to ruin?"

"Mmm...Not quite, Namie-chan," Izaya responded in his usual playful tone, though his eyes lacked their usual devious sparkle today. He lay down, casually draping his legs over the armrest as he tilted his head back to look at her. "I was looking for someone special," he teased.

Namie sighed, refusing to meet his eyes as she continued to read over some documents. "Is it that Tomo-san again?"

Izaya sat upright, crimson eyes shining. Almost as if he'd been waiting for her to ask. "Yep!" he nodded. Suddenly, his shoulders sagged a little. "No doubt that 'Tomo' isn't her real name, though," he pouted. "I can't find her anywhere."

"Maybe that's for the better," Namie returned. "You can't understand _everyone_, you know."

Izaya folded his arms across his chest and stared at his chessboard pensively. "I know," he muttered as he rolled a pawn around in his hand. "But this is one person who fascinates me." And it was true, too...though he would admit that he was interested in Tomo-chan mostly because she wasn't anywhere on his radar. He hadn't done a background check on her, he hadn't taken a picture of her, and he hadn't even asked for her full name - and now she had slipped through his fingers. It bothered him to no end. "I'm going to find her," he declared.

"Whatever you say," Namie shrugged.

Izaya had thought long and hard about where on his chessboard to place the pawn in his hand, but he finally gave up and chose to set it on the table. He slowly got to his feet and sauntered over to Namie's side. "What's this?" he asked, looking over her shoulder at the dense-looking documents in her binder. "More project proposals?"

"No," she said, "they're just reports on recent experiments. I'm reviewing them for inspiration."

"You want to try and get your job back?"

She put her pen down exasperatedly. "No, Izaya," she snapped. "I already told you, I have absolutely no chance at getting that job back."

"Then what is it?" he pried, not so much genuinely interested as he was in the mood for annoying his utterly humorless secretary. Seeing as she refused to respond, however, he switched the topic. "What happened to the proposals you were reading last time? Wasn't there something about a psychologist?"

"They were rejected," she responded, resuming her work. "I heard the psychologist was upset at first but ended up disappearing from the field without much of a fight. My guess is that she's running her experiments on her own little lab rats somewhere in the underbelly of Ikebukuro."

Izaya paused. _Lab rats?_ he wondered, vaguely remembering Tomo-chan's use of the term to describe him. It was a bit of a stretch, but at least now he had something to cling to. "What was her name?"

Namie stood abruptly and closed her binder. If she had heard him, she certainly wasn't planning to respond. "I've business to attend to," she snapped, reaching over to turn off the desk lamp. "But I honestly think you'd be stupid to chase after that Tomo girl."

"Namie-chan, you think everything I do is stupid as it is," Izaya purred. "Might I ask what kind of business you must attend to at this time of night?"

"I have a brother to tend to," she barked back, reaching over and turning off the desk lamp. Even in the dim light, her wistful smile glowed as she thought of Seiji. "You should get a girlfriend, Izaya. Love might take your mind off of your twisted little games."

"Oh, but I _do_ love, Namie-chan," Izaya responded coolly, a mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "I love all humans."

"Whatever," Namie replied, before gathering her materials and marching towards the door. "I'm off. Good luck with your manhunt," she said, turning to face Izaya one last time before exiting the room. The door closed behind her with a slam.

"Luck won't be necessary," he said, knowing full well that no one was there to listen. He walked over to the window overlooking the city. _So she's somewhere underground, is she?_ he mused, taking out his cell phone and scrolling through his contacts. _I think I know just the person to ask about her._ He dialed a number and held the phone up to his ear.

An undeniable smile took hold of his features as the voice on the other end greeted him._ "Hello? Izaya-san?"_

"Shinra-san!" He chirped. "Say, I need help with something. Care to help me out?"

* * *

_**A/N: I've noticed my chapters are getting longer and longer. I'm not sure if that's a good thing - let me know what you think in the reviews! And really, please please please review. I love reading your comments and feedback; all of it is helpful and encourages me to write more. Constructive criticism is also much appreciated, so please don't be afraid to speak your mind. Thanks!**_

**_Until next time!_**

**_Slouchy_**


	4. Unusual

_**A/N: Hey guys. It's been a while! Thanks for waiting so patiently for this chapter! I hope you enjoy. Please bear with me; I know it might be moving a little slow, but there will be some action and drama coming up!**_

**_DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the characters in Durarara, nor do I own the original plot, yadayadayada. Miyako is all mine, though._**

* * *

"Geez, Izaya, what on earth happened?" Shinra asked, taking immediate notice of the blood seeping through Izaya's shirt. _How strange,_ he thought. _Izaya hardly ever gets hurt. _He worriedly approached his friend.

"No cause for concern, Shinra," sighed Izaya, with a dismissive wave of the hand and a reassuring smile. "I just had a brief run-in with Shizu-chan on the way here. It's nothing out of the ordinary."

Shinra narrowed his eyes as he took a step forward to examine his friend's injury. "No, this is definitely cause for concern," he protested, his voice unusually stern. He rummaged through a nearby cabinet before turning back to Izaya with a bottle of hydrogen peroxide in one hand and a roll of gauze in the other. "Take off your shirt."

"My, my, Shinra! I'm flattered you want to see my bare chest so badly," Izaya teased, but he obediently removed his black t-shirt nonetheless. He didn't argue when Shinra gently pushed him backwards onto the couch; he merely sighed in resignation and closed his eyes as Shinra dabbed peroxide on his open wound. "It's not such a serious injury that I can't take care of it myself, you know."

"Sure, but..." Shinra started, pausing to finish cleaning Izaya's shoulder. "...I find it hard to imagine Shizuo-san doing this to you," he said, discarding his latex gloves and turning to meet Izaya's piercing gaze. "Even though you fight every day, you haven't been injured like this before," he pointed out, his skepticism evident in his voice.

Izaya smirked. "There's a first time for everything, Shinra-san," he chirped, then bounced to his feet, quickly getting dressed and tossing his jacket on. "But that's not what I wanted to see you about, Shinra."

Shinra eased into an armchair and folded his hands in his lap. "I didn't think so," he chuckled, smiling expectantly. "What was it you wanted to ask me about?"

Izaya's eyes lit up. "I'm looking for someone," he began enthusiastically. The more he thought about finding the mysterious Tomo-chan, the more excited he became. "Shinra, would you happen to know anything about a new underground psychologist?" he asked, a manic smile forming on his lips.

Shinra folded his arms across his chest and closed his eyes, searching his memory for anything he might have heard. "As far as I know, no one's opened up any psychological practices in the underground," he said, slowly shaking his head.

"Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of field research," Izaya pressed on. "Someone who was recently denied permission to carry out an experiment. She's probably conducting independent research projects, but I doubt she'd have set up a practice."

Shinra chewed on his lower lip and tilted his head from side to side as he factored in the new information. "I'm not sure why you're so interested...but if she isn't being paid for her research, then she probably has another job, right?"

Come to think of it, Izaya wondered why Namie had been so against revealing the name of the psychologist whose proposal she rejected. Could it have been that Namie didn't want Izaya to find Tomo-chan because she didn't want Tomo-chan to take revenge? He was almost tempted to introduce her to Namie just to piss Namie off. In any case, it was likely that Tomo-chan had taken on a less experimental job in psychology in order to make a living. If necessary, he would ask Namie about Tomo-chan again later.

Just as Izaya opened his mouth to speak, the front door swung open and Celty entered the apartment. She strode past the living room without much thought, holding up her "Welcome home" for Shinra to see, but she backtracked upon noticing Izaya's presence. She paused for a moment before entering the room. _"Good evening, Izaya-san,"_ she wrote. _"What are you doing here?"_

"Evening, Celty-san," Izaya piped, and he grinned as he took a playful little bow.

Shinra cut in before Izaya had the opportunity to answer Celty's question and ran up to give her a hug. "Celty!" He exclaimed, burying his face in her shoulder. "How was your day?"

"_Good enough,"_ she responded hesitantly, carefully freeing herself from Shinra's embrace. _"Izaya-san, please explain to me why you're here."_

Shinra sighed audibly. "Celty, Izaya and I are just having a chat. It's nothing you'd be interested in," he grumbled, clearly agitated by the attention she was giving Izaya and not himself.

"I'm asking Shinra to help me find someone," he explained, ignoring Shinra's whining. "I thought he'd be able to help me out since he's in the same occupational field as my target."

Celty took a moment to ponder his words. _"Why do you need to find this person?"_

Izaya grinned, though his eyes remained as unrevealing as ever. "Because she interests me," he replied nonchalantly. "Isn't that reason enough for me to want to find her?"

Celty wavered. Ostensibly, Izaya was searching for a woman to whom he was attracted, someone whom he genuinely wanted to pursue - Celty's feminine sensibilities made her want to help. But then, this was Izaya Orihara she was dealing with.

"In any case, Celty doesn't need to be involved in this. I can help you," Shinra intervened hastily, noticing Celty's hesitation. "What did you say she was again? A psychologist without an official job? She's running her own experiments without official clearance, right? You never got her name? What does she look like?"

Celty shrugged her shoulders and placed her helmet on the kitchen counter. _"I ran into a therapist a little while back," _she offered. "_She's new in town, I think."_

Shinra's shoulders slumped dejectedly. "Aww, Celty, I told you not to get involved..."

Izaya laughed and patted Shinra's shoulder. "Come on, Shinra-san! Don't be so jealous. I'm very grateful for Celty's help."

"_I never said I was helping," _she replied, leaning on the kitchen counter. _"I just happened to remember meeting a psychologist."_

Izaya nodded. "Well, any information can help. I am an informant, you know," he chuckled teasingly. "Do you remember her name?"

Celty wanted to answer, but she wavered again. Shizuo was already visiting Dr. Kumasaki - what good would it do to introduce Izaya to her as well? _"You're not planning to hurt her or anything, are you?" _she asked hesitantly.

Izaya blinked. "Oh goodness, no! I'd never think of doing such a thing," she insisted, though the glint in his eye suggested otherwise. "I just want to know more about her. She caught my attention, you see."

"_Miyako Kumasaki."_

"Miyako Kumasaki...? Is that her name, Celty-san?" Izaya asked, the excitement creeping into his voice.

"_That's all I'm telling you," _she responded curtly, before turning on her heels and retreating to her room.

*.*.*.*.*.*

Miyako Kumasaki wrinkled her nose at the dish before her. _What on earth...?_ she wondered, poking the raw fish - she hoped it was fish, anyway - with her chopsticks.

The waiter observed her skepticism with undaunted determination. He was the only black man she'd encountered in Tokyo thus far, and as if that didn't make him stand out enough, he was perhaps the single largest, most intimidating man she had ever seen. "Eat. It's good," he insisted, pushing the plate towards her.

"O-oh...I'm really not very hungry..." she tried, for once sounding completely unconvincing. She laughed to cover for her lie. "It sure looks good, though."

The waiter smiled knowingly. "Then eat. Russian sushi is good."

_Russian sushi..._she thought. _Is that what this is?_ Deciding it would be best not to upset the rather intimidating waiter, she nodded feebly and brought a piece to her mouth. It took all she had not to shudder as the slimy fish made its way down her throat. "I-it's good!" she managed.

"See?" the waiter said smugly. Satisfied, he returned to the kitchen.

She waited only until he disappeared from sight before she hastily snatched up her glass of water and chugged it down. "Ugh..." she groaned, wiping her mouth with her napkin. "Never again..."

"Ahahaha!" a man laughed from beside her. "I didn't think I would be lucky enough to meet you here!" Before she knew what was happening, whoever he was had casually draped his arm around her shoulders.

She instinctively wrenched free of his grasp and turned to get a better look at him. "Oh. It's you," she grumbled, straightening her collar. _Not this bastard again. _She'd thought she'd recognized the voice. "I thought I told you never to bother me again, Nakura-san."

"Well, I've been looking for you, Tomo-chan," Izaya giggled. "And besides, you looked so pathetic after eating that sushi, I just couldn't pass up the opportunity to talk to you." He flashed her his signature grin.

"Do _not_ try to tell me that was sushi," she retorted, then scoffed at him distadainfully. She would not let him bother her. She could not let him get in the way. "Listen, I'm sure I'm keeping you from your dinner. I won't be around here much longer, so why don't you just go and order your food?"

He smiled mischievously. "Aww, how considerate of you," he teased, "but since it's the first time I've seen you in ages, I'd rather spend it getting to know you, Tomo-chan." It was just his luck, after all, running into her, especially since now he knew her name. He looked her over. She looked different from how she did the last time they'd met. More mature, perhaps. In addition to sporting shorter hair, she looked particularly sharp today. Professional. "What kind of work do you do, Tomo-chan?" he chirped.

"Nakura-san," she sighed, popping a piece of "sushi" into her mouth. "What do you want?"

Izaya narrowed his eyes as he smirked. "I want to learn more abou..." He trailed off, distracted by the shock of blond hair across the room. The shades. The bartender suit. It seemed his "friend" was here, chatting away with Simon. _Shit_, he thought to himself, turning to face Miyako with a deceptively nonchalant expression. "Oh my, Shizu-chan is here, too!" he remarked, standing abruptly. "It looks as though I will have to cut this meeting short for today. But don't worry, I promise I'll see you again very soon." He reached out towards her face, twirling a lock of her glossy hair around his finger, and took off, slipping past the scary waiter and out into the bustle of the city.

_Shizu-chan...? _she thought to herself, trying to recall anyone by the name. _Wait..._

"IZAYA!" a familiar voice boomed, startling her out of her thoughts. She watched as her newest client scrambled out after Nakura-san. _That's definitely Shizuo,_ she thought, subconsciously following them outside.

A crowd had already gathered by the time she made it out of the shop. "Look, it's Shizuo Heiwajima!" a little boy exclaimed, pointing at the blond-haired man before them. _Looks like he really is infamous._ Standing opposite Shizuo was Nakura-san, a good head shorter and much more slender. He continued to smile that annoyingly fake smile, even as Shizuo wrenched a signpost from the ground and swung at him frantically. Miyako watched in a mixture of awe and fright as Nakura dodged every one of Shizuo's attacks with ease.

She was shoved forward suddenly. She turned, coming face-to-face with a timid-looking high school boy. _That uniform...it's..._

"Ah, sorry, miss!" the boy apologized, bowing to her respectfully.

"No, it's fine," she insisted, bowing her head slightly. But her attention was no longer on the boy; it was on the rapidly escalating fight.

It seemed that Shizuo Heiwajima - her client - was certainly a force to be reckoned with: he batted the pole around as though he was trying to swat a fly, destroying everything it came in contact with. _"_Dammit! FIGHT ME!" he roared, continuing to miss his target.

As he brought the pole down again, her eyes locked with his. In an instant, his muscles tensed, as if he _feared _her - or feared what she'd do to him at their next meeting, anyway - and he let the pole drop to the ground with a loud clatter.

_That's right...Shizuo mentioned getting into fights like these often..._Miyako recalled, still caught in Shizuo's gaze. _So that's__..._ She slowly turned to face Nakura-san, who'd taken notice of Shizuo's abrupt halt. Their eyes met. _Izaya Orihara._

A knowing smile lit up Izaya's face when he caught sight of her. "Oi, Miyako-chan! You came to cheer me on?" he called, waving at her and bouncing up and down. She cringed. _Dammit, so he knows my name, too. _The realization made her mildly gloomy. _Who the hell is this guy?_

The next thing either of them knew, Izaya staggered back a few steps, clutching his shoulder and wincing; he couldn't keep the pain from distorting his delicate features. Shizuo had thrown the signpost like it was a javelin while Izaya wasn't paying attention, and it had just grazed Izaya's shoulder. For a moment, Miyako thought he would keel over from the pain, but he simply took a deep breath and shot her yet another winning smile. "Looks like I gotta run, Miyako-chan!" he shouted merrily. "Let's meet up later, okay?" He gave Shizuo a teasing smirk and bolted from the scene.

Shizuo glanced at Miyako one last time, as if to apologize. _Sorry, but I have to do this,_ he seemed to say, before sprinting after his prey.


End file.
